Wilderness

When I met him, he was lost in the wilderness of mental illness. There was nothing outside his mind that was real. His only reality was of his own making. He was terrified of what his mind produced. I was called to the police station to examine him. No one dared enter the cell with him, myself included. He . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “wilderness.”

5 thoughts on “Wilderness”

He shielded his eyes with the shade from his calloused hand. It was midday as the sun bore down on the blood red plains before him. Not a single piece of greenery was in sight, save the occasional brush. Either he would conquer this land, or it would conquer him.

I live on the edge of the Ventana Wilderness. A huge forest in Monterey County where hikers go missing forever. One day I will hike into the heart of her and become lost where no one can find me. I seek her solitude, I seek her welcoming darkness. I seek . . .

Ryan shook his head in frustration and continued walking. He felt he was working beneath his standards, and he didn’t know if he could continue working under these conditions. At that moment, he made a snap decision—it was time to update his resumé.

Waving her arms wildly, gesturing with frank aggression, loud voice and a rising pitch; I shivered mentally as I was entering the wilderness of her thoughts. A large , dark , brooding forest, where not even a ray of the sun of reason was allowed to enter; where grudges putrefied and fermented into festering swamps and quicksands, where innocuous remarks metamorphosed into gargantuan monoliths of resistance. I sat back uneasily as she poured forth the cataract of venomous insanity from her lips….

“Bipolaire, really?” I ask the doctor. ” I know I’ve been working a lot lately, through the night and all, but you see I started this new project and it’s great, really great! I just can’t stop. I have so many incredible ideas. I’m telling you it’s gonna be my best book yet!

“Mom, it’s been three days and three nights,” my daughter whispers softly.

I look at her worried face and laugh hysterically then succumb to a fit of uncontrollable sobs. My daughter looks away with teary eyes.

As I am being escorted to the first floor by a security guard, I am angry, real angry. Society despises lazy people but when you are hardworking they just throw you into a psychiatric ward.

Almost a day later, I awake totally petrified. I am Naomi Buote, forty-five years old and I just realised that I am Bipolaire.